Everything is Black and White
by NYNC91
Summary: Abigail cursed silently when she realized where she was. The Black Manor. She was trapped in the house of Sirius Black, of a murderer, and there was nothing she could do about it. SBOC
1. The First Snowfall

Chapter One: The First Snowfall

_It's about to snow soon. I can smell it in the air, _Abigail Gilmore reflected joyfully as she paused to stare out the front window of the bookstore she worked at. The sign on the shop's door had long since been flipped to 'Closed', but Abigail was one of two employees that always got stuck with the closing shift. Abigail didn't mind though—the others at the bookstore deserved to be at home at nights with their spouses and children. The twenty-eight year old lived alone in a small flat a few blocks away from the bookstore, and while she had friends, she wasn't particularly close to any of them. The other employee there with her was a young man named Mark. Mark was a tad boring, but he was polite, and Abigail liked him quite a lot.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?" Mark asked, as he locked up the registers and made sure all the lights in the back room were off. Mark asked her this question every night, and every night the answer was the same.

"I assure you I will be quite alright, Mark. But thanks. I've walked these streets since I was nine, and I have yet to be kidnapped," Abigail responded, smiling slightly.

"Yes, well, there's a first time for everything, now isn't there?" Mark laughed, although Abigail knew that he really didn't approve of her walking alone at night. But Mark didn't know that Abigail could no doubt defend herself better than he could. Not because she had a particularly intimidating appearance (she was only about 5'3, a full foot and a half shorter than Mark) but because she was a witch.

"Bye, Mark," Abigail called as she made her way to the front counter.

"G'night, Abby."

Grabbing her cup of coffee that she had charmed to stay full to the brim and hot, Abigail headed for the door. She slipped on her coat and donned her hat and gloves, then stepped out into the cold evening air. It was not quite dark yet, but it probably would be by the time Abigail got to her flat. Although she could Apparate just fine, she hated the feeling of it and preferred to get her exercise, so she walked to and from work. Soft light spilled from windows as she passed by houses and stores, and the cold air nipped at her nose. She knew it was going to snow soon, and she walked with a little extra bounce in her step. Snow was one of her favorite things ever—looking at it, feeling it, smelling it…she couldn't wait for the first snow of the season, and she hoped it would come that night.

As she walked down the road, she glanced at the papers that had recently been stapled to every telephone post in the area, warning all citizens of a mass murderer on the lose named Sirius Black. Abigail had heard of this man, and the sight of his face laughing at her from all of the street posts sent chills through her. One of the papers blew across the street in a strong gust of wind, and fluttered to a stop before her feet.

Taking a right turn, Abigail started down a short, poorly lit road. She could only get home by taking this road, but it still made her very uneasy. The very end of the road was well lit, where it intersected with more a more crowded street and more houses, but the walk to the end of the road was one in shadows, past deserted buildings. Walking faster through this section, she was about halfway down the road when she thought she heard footsteps. Abigail turned around to look behind her but saw no one. As she resumed walking, it seemed as if the footsteps did too. _Maybe it's just an echo_, she thought, as she wrapped her coat tighter around her and sped up her pace a little. The sound of footsteps seemed to speed up too, and Abigail felt in her pocket for her wand. Her stomach dropped as her hand felt only cloth. _Oh god. My wand. I left it at the shop, god I'm so stupid…_

The footsteps quickened to a run, heavy footsteps, footsteps of a large man. Abigail's veins turned to ice as she broke out into a run. But the man behind her was faster, and caught up to her before she could get to the sanctuary of the busy street at the end. The man grabbed her roughly and slammed her against the wall of one of the deserted buildings, knocking the air from her lungs. His arms pinned her to the wall, and a dirty hand covered her mouth. Abigail struggled in terror against the man, but he just held onto her arm tighter, bruising it. He was a unshaven, overweight man who looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks. The smell of whiskey was strong on his breath and there was lust in his kamikaze eyes. Abigail gagged in disgust at the smell of him, and she felt him tearing at her shirt. She squeezed her eyes closed as she struggled harder, but her eyes flew back open at the sound of his zipper. _No. No, no, no, not that, please, God don't let this be happening_…

The man pressed himself against her and smashed his filthy lips against hers. In a burst of desperation, Abigail bit down hard, and tasted blood. The man reeled back and released one of his hands from her arm to slap her. Her arm now free, Abigail lashed out at the man, her nails digging into his cheek. The man stumbled back and Abigail pushed herself away from the wall and took off running. He was blocking the way to the end of the road where the lights where, so she took off down the side alley a few feet away, hoping against hope it was not a dead end. Frantically trying to find a hiding place or an escape route, she spotted a stair well leading down into what she assumed was the basement door outside of one house. The door was open. Sprinting towards it, Abigail was almost there when she ran into something warm and solid. She was knocked back onto the ground, and her head snapped up to see who she had run into. Her blood ran cold as she met the eyes of the very man who's face was plastered on every telephone pole in town—the infamous Sirius Black.

The darkness hid half of his face, but the other half was well lit enough to be recognizable. Long black hair hung down in his face and the lights from a cracked streetlight nearby glinted off of his dark eyes. His eyes widened at the sight of her and he took a step forward. Abigail tried to scream, but her fear and shortness of breath made it come out as more of a whimper. Scrambling to her feet she turned around to run the other way, and realized too late that she was running right back into the arms of the man who had attacked her. Abigail felt the side of her face explode in pain as his hand met her cheek.

Stumbling backwards, she lost her footing, but as she stepped back, she didn't feel ground—only air. She whipped her head around just in time to realize that she had backed up into the very stairwell she thought she could escape too. Losing her balance, she tumbled down the stairs, and heard a sickening crunch when she hit the bottom. As a searing pain went through her leg, which was bent beneath her at an odd angle, she looked up and saw Sirius Black silhouetted by the moonlight at the top of the stairs. _I'm going to die. He's going to kill me. Or maybe I'm already dying…_As the pain, shock, and fear set in, the scene around her slowly dissolved into blackness, and she lost all consciousness.

She was not awake to see her attacker come staggering drunkenly towards the stairwell, nor was she awake to see Sirius whip out a wand and point it at the man, who promptly flew back against the brick wall. She was not awake to see him carefully come down the stairs and check her broken leg and bruised skin, both from the fall and the attack, or see his face as he seemed to debate what to do. She was most certainly not awake to see him gingerly pick up her small body and carry her back to his house, careful to stay in the shadows the whole way.

And she most certainly was not awake to see the first snowflakes of the season slowly start falling, swirling down into the dark alley that she was being carried away from.

* * *

This chapter is shorter than I had intended, but they will be come longer as the story goes on. This fic should be around 10 chapters I think, and will obviously be Abigail/Sirius. Tell me if you want any chapters from Sirius's point of view, because right now I'm just planning to do it from Abigails. I would love it if someone would be a beta reader for me, and I'm willing to do the same for anyone else. Thanks for reading, please review! 


	2. My Name is Abigail

Chapter Two: My Name is Abigail 

_I need to fix those cracks in my ceiling…they look quite ugly…_was the first thought that floated across Abigail's mind as she opened her eyes again. She was lying on her back, staring upwards, when she realized that it was not her ceiling at all. She was not in her room, and she most certainly was not in her own bed.

Cursing inwardly, she threw back the covers and attempted to jump out of bed, but as soon as her right leg touched the ground the pain that she had been feeling in it before skyrocketed to the point where she couldn't stand, and her knees buckled so that she had to hang on to the bed tightly to avoid collapsing.

_What am I going to do…oh god…where am I?_ Abigail attempted to stand up but found that even a slight attempt to put weight on her leg resulted in a pain that made her vision swim. It also made her head hurt worse in addition to the pounding migraine she had. _I died. I died and now I'm in Hell. God I knew I never should have egged Mrs. McKinnon's car in the 8th grade…_

As she was going through everything in her life that could have possibly sent her to Hell, the door creaked open. Looking up, Abigail froze, terrified at what she saw. Standing in the doorway was Sirius Black. _He's come to kill me. He's going to kill me. _He stepped into the room as she struggled to stand. Suddenly he spoke, surprising her.

"You shouldn't be standing. You'll make your leg worse," he told her, in a horse voice that sounded as though it had not been used in a very long time. His voice was quiet and deep, and lacked the crazy undertone that she had thought it would have. But voice or not, he was still a murderer, and Abigail was _not_ going to die without at least trying to escape. As he took a step towards her, she scrambled away from the bed, stumbled, and caught herself on the desk quickly. Her heart pounding, she swiftly pushed away from the desk and attempted to get past him out of the doorway, but her knee buckled again as the pain shot through her leg. She was falling towards the floor, and she heard Black grunt as he caught her right before she hit the ground.

"NO! Let me go—stop it, let me go, please!" She cried as she felt him lift her off of the floor as if she weighed nothing at all. His arms were surprisingly strong for a man who looked so emaciated, and she struggled against him, but he only tightened his grip. She gasped as he squeezed the heavily bruised part of her arm, and he loosened his grip a little before she felt herself being set back down on the bed.

"That was a stupid decision," he growled, then softened his voice at the scared look on her face. "Your leg is broken. You need to lie down," She wondered why he was acting like this. _Wouldn't he kill me right off? He killed Pettigrew and those Muggles, why would he wait for my leg to get better first?_ She struggled to get out of bed again, knowing that it was useless but not willing to just lay there and wait for her death. She saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes as he drew out his wand.

_No…oh God he's going to do it right now. _She squeezed her eyes closed tight and waited to hear the Killing Curse issued from his lips. Instead, she heard him mutter '_Somnus Aducco_'. _The Sleeping Spell? What…I don't…why didn't he…_Abigail's thoughts ran together until she drifted off into blackness yet again.

When she woke up, Black was not in the room, and her headache was gone, although the pain in her leg was only slightly dulled. Turning her head to the side, she saw that there was a small plate on the bedside table. On the plate was a small chicken leg and several slices of bread, along with a little bit of cheese and an apple. It wasn't much, but it was food, and Abigail felt her stomach growl at the sight of it. Next to the plate there was a pot of tea and a matching tea cup, both of which she could tell used to be nice, but were now chipped and worn.

Confusion filled her mind as she wondered why Black, who heartlessly killed so many people, would be giving her food, and why he hadn't killed her yet. Not that she was complaining—but the drastic difference between what was happening (or rather, not happening) and what was supposed to be happening was unnerving her. Not knowing what was going on always made Abigail paranoid, so she left her food untouched for fear that it was a trick. She refused to be lulled into a false sense of security, only to have him kill her as soon as she let her guard down.

About ten minutes later, the door creaked open and Sirius Black stepped into the room again. This time Abigail did not go cold at the sight of him, as she was expecting him, but she was still frightened, as most people would be, by the fact that there was a murderer in the same room as her. His eyes scanned over her and the food, and he smirked a little.

"It's not poisoned, you know."

"I'm not hungry," Abigail defended weakly, at the same moment that a large growl of hunger issued from her stomach. Morning light was peaking through the curtains, indicating that night was over—and she had not eaten since lunch the previous day.

"You should eat. You need strength if you're going to get your leg better," he insisted in that quiet, underused voice of his. She just stared at him, and he sighed. "You don't have anything else to do but eat. After that last little incident I've made sure that you can't put a foot out of that bed. I've charmed it."

Widening her eyes, Abigail's breath quickened. _It is not good to be bound to a murderer's bed by a spell. Not good at all…_Black noticed her expression and sighed and rubbed his temple. "I've tried to make it clear that I mean you no harm," he said, and studied her closely, watching for a reaction. Her face did not change. "And I certainly don't intend to…take advantage of you in any way. Your leg is broken, and I don't know how to fix it. I've charmed you to your bed because you seem to be under the impression that you can walk, and you're going to make it worse."

Abigail intended to say something witty or brave, but what came out were the words that had running through her head since she first set eyes on him.

"Are you going to kill me?"

She winced as soon as she said this, realizing how stupid she sounded, and hoping that he didn't decide to do so right then and there. _Damn you mouth, I didn't tell you to say that. _Black's brow furrowed, and something she couldn't define flashed behind his eyes. "Well…I assumed that killing you was under the category of harming you, which I've already said that I'm not going to do. But if you want to be specific, then no, I'm certainly not going to kill you. So you can feel free to eat the food next to you, because if you don't then I'll have to feed it to Buckbeak."

Although Abigail had no idea who Buckbeak was, and she certainly didn't trust the words of Sirius Black, she didn't want the food to go to someone else, especially since she was so hungry. Hesitantly reaching over, she picked up the chicken leg and bit into it. It was warm and filling, and she practically inhaled it and the rest of the food as Black watched in faint amusement. His close watch on her made her nervous that perhaps the food _was _poison, but she was so hungry that one she started eating it she couldn't stop.

Black still stood in the doorway, never stepping closer to her but never taking his eyes off of her. "What's your name?" he asked. The question startled her after such a long pause, and she contemplated whether to answer it. Not answering might anger him, and she didn't want to do that for several reasons. For one, he had a wand and was considerably taller and no doubt stronger than her, no matter how skinny he was. Another reason was that she was magically bound to a bed with a broken leg and no wand, and the third reason? Oh, yes. Well he was a murderer. She decided that it was best to answer the question.

"It's…Abigail," she said nervously. _Why do you need to know that? _She silently added, _You're just going to kill me anyway._

Black's nodded and smiled slightly. "Abigail. That's a pretty name…" he said absently. Abigail was taken aback by this—why was he being polite? This man was in Azkaban for 12 years for killing so many people. He was heartless. He laughed his head off after he betrayed his best friends. And here he was talking to her as if they had just met in the street and he was a normal man.

_But perhaps this is how is? He's polite until something sets him off, and then he snaps, and kills everyone. Like a ticking bomb, _Abigail thought in her head. He was watching her again. She couldn't tell what he was thinking as he looked at her, for his eyes held neither lust nor anger. Strangely, they seemed to just be full of…sadness? No. Those were nonsense thoughts. _Murderer's like Black feel nothing but hate._

Swallowing, she looked around the room. It was not completely run down, and looked as if it had been very regal at one point. There was a large, ornate dresser directly across from her bed, and a small stand next to it with a mirror, washing basin, and towels. Three dark mahogany bookshelves lined the other wall, and next to them was a matching desk. Two large windows were next to her bed, and heavy emerald drapes hung in front of them.

The wallpaper was peeling slightly at the top, and the gold designs had faded into the dark green background. Several paintings of strict looking men and women watched her from the walls, looking at her with faint distaste. A layer of dust covered the entire room, indicating that it had probably not been used for a very long time up till now. The room was rather dark and gloomy, although it seemed as if someone had attempted to brighten it up slightly. The drapes were tied back, allowing light into the room, and the surface of the bedside table was clear of dust.

"Where…where am I?" Abigail questioned hesitantly.

Black glanced around the room, distaste written on his features. "Ah, this is one of the many guest rooms in the Black Manor. Rather…uninviting, I know," he said. His face darkened slightly as he looked around, seemingly lost in thought.

_Uninviting? Yes, well, that just wont do, next time I'm held hostage by a murderer I'll be sure to ask for a nice, cheery room. Maybe one with some daisies, or a nice beachside view. _Abigail fiddled with the bedspread and refused to meet Black's eyes; she was still unconvinced that his calm, polite air was sincere. "I'm sorry I can't fix you're leg," he spoke suddenly, making her jump slightly, "I never was good at mending injuries. I'd bring someone else in to do it, but we were removed from the Floo Network long ago, and we have Anti-Apparation wards on the house. As soon as the blizzard dies down, I'll send an owl to…a friend. He can help you." This was the most she'd heard him say since she'd been here.

_A friend? Murderers have friends? Oh well that will be just lovely. They can come over, have tea and biscuits, kill a few dozen people, play some chess, and call it a night, _Abigail thought, but kept her mouth shut. He suddenly moved towards her bed and she held her breath and slid away towards the far wall. He paused to look at her, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it, picked up the plate on her bedside table, and exited the room.

_I'm stuck here. With a murderer of all people. What am I going to do?  
_

* * *

I know, I know, nothing has really happened yet. Things will pick up in a while, but Abigail has to get used to the fact that she's living with a man who she believes to be a murderer.

Thanks to Insane and Logical, cylobaby, and this-love-is-sirius for reviewing. I hope you guys continue reading! Polaris101--I'd love for you to beta read me--I'm always worried that there's something I'll miss, or that's confusing but I can't tell, or something. You know? I'll send you the next chapter when I'm done so you can beta read it. Thanks a bunch for reviewing, too!

Everyone else--please review, thanks!


	3. Not What I Expected

A shrill voice woke Abigail up the next morning. "What is THAT? That—that _filth_ in my bed, half blood, disgrace to all of the wizarding race!" Abigail's eyes snapped open, and she shot upright, jerking her head around to spot whoever was screaming at her. But to her confusion, she saw no one in her room. _Was I dreaming…? _

"Over HERE you stupid girl! Who are you? Certainly not a Black!" the voice screeched again from the corner of the room, and Abigail snapped her attention towards it. The voice was coming from a portrait on the wall, and a very ugly one at that. An ancient with gray hair and heavily lidded eyes glowered from inside the frame. The old woman opened her scowling mouth again to shriek at Abigail, "Do you not hear me, idiot? Can you not speak? What are you, dumb? Mute?"

Abigail glared at the painting. "I can hear you perfectly _fine _you miserable old bat. Who couldn't with you screaming so loud? Good God, you sound like fingernails on a chalkboard!" The portrait's deep set eyes widened indignantly, and she was about to screech a reply when the door to Abigail's room suddenly flew open and Sirius Black entered the room. He narrowed his eyes at the portrait on the wall in distaste.

"Mum! What are you doing up here? Your portrait is downstairs, in back of the curtains where you can't shout at everyone you see. I put you there for a reason, why don't you go _back _there and be miserable by yourself?" The woman in the painting scowled once more and then disappeared behind the side of the frame, revealing the medieval scene that was originally there. Black rubbed his temple and stared at the picture for a minute, then glanced over at Abigail when he seemed to remember that there was indeed another person in the room.

He didn't look at scary now as he had before. His appearance was still the same at yesterday—shockingly thin, long black hair, and pale skin. But she was slightly more used to him, and the sight of him didn't terrify her_ quite_ as much as it had at first. Abigail gazed back at him, and then down at her leg, then took a deep breath. _I'm going to be here awhile. He hasn't hurt me yet, and I'm not going anywhere soon…I might as well make the best of things_. She raised her eyes again to meet his, which were still studying her intently. _Say thank you, _she ordered herself, _it's not hard. Just say thanks for…not killing me? That would go over just wonderful. Say thank you for trying to help my leg. That's good. Just say thank you. _

Throughout Abigail's life, she had always been careful to think before she spoke. She never just said what was on her mind, and as a result, she usually got along with people, regardless of if she adored them or despised them. However, nothing about her body, from her brain to her leg, seemed to be obeying her that day, and she found that the words coming out of her mouth were quite different from the ones she had rehearsed her in head.

"Your mother is a hag."

_What? No! That didn't come out at all like it was supposed to! _Mentally smacking herself, Abigail's eyes widened and she caught her breath as she waited for his reaction. She couldn't even stutter out an apology, she was so surprised at the words that had come out of her mouth. Black stared at her for a moment, apparently equally as shocked. Then he let out a barking laugh, throwing his head back. "Yes, yes she is," he agreed, nodding and chuckling. Abigail noticed how much younger and less intimidating he looked when he laughed.

"I—I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I didn't mean to. I was trying to…to say thank you." _And somehow it came out just slightly different. _

Black blinked, appearing slightly surprised, but not unhappy. "You're welcome." They both looked around the room, not having much to say, when Abigail realized something.

"How…how did you know that I was a witch? You mentioned a lot of magical things. But I didn't have my wand with me…" Abigail was surprised to see amusement in his eyes.

"Well, a copy of Witch Weekly and some galleons fell out of your bag. That and you, er…tend to talk in your sleep. I gather that you rather like Gilderoy Lockhart," he said, a small smirk gracing his face. Abigail felt heat rise in her cheeks; she had had a slight crush on the handsome Lockhart for a little while. What a pity he ended up going crazy.

"Er…yes, well…" Abigail mumbled incoherently and shifted embarrassedly. The movement caused a sharp pain to shoot up her leg, and she bit her lip and tried to hide a wince to no avail. Black noticed, and took a step towards her in concern. Abigail's heartbeat sped up; although she wasn't as terrified anymore, he was still a wanted murderer, and she still felt a stab of fear when he was that close to her. However, he didn't come any closer, and her heartbeat settled slightly.

"Are you in pain?" he asked, and she shrugged her shoulders indifferently, although pain was indeed shooting through her leg. "The blizzard should let up soon and I can send an owl for some medical help…it shouldn't be long now."

"And then I can leave?" Abigail realized she sounded rather rude as she spoke, but she wanted to make sure that she could go home.

"Yes. When your leg is fixed, the spell on your bed will automatically be lifted, and then you may leave."

His dark eyes studied her. His eyes were what fascinated her the most. Every time he looked at her, she found herself wondering at the absence of the madness she had expected in them. On his posters, he had looked so different…laughing maniacally, and his eyes had been crazy. But the eyes that were looking at her now… They were intense, and sometimes full of some emotion she couldn't describe, but they looked just as sane as her own. She felt her mouth opening, and yet again, words tumbled out of their own accord.

"You aren't at all what I expected."

His eyes didn't leave hers, but that same indescribable look passed behind them. "What did you expect?" When she didn't answer, he looked out the window and continued speaking, "You expected me to be the man on the posters around town. You expected a murderer. And why wouldn't you? The Ministry of Magic says so, Fudge himself says so. It's absurd to think that the Ministry would make a mistake, that they would throw an innocent man in Azkaban, right? Everything is black and white in this world—there's no gray area, no room for anyone to wonder if maybe they were wrong."

He shook his head bitterly, his eyes still gazing hard out the window, and then turned his head towards her and she almost jumped at the intensity of his stare when he met her eyes. Abigail opened her mouth and shut it again, at a loss for words, and Black shook his head, though whether in anger or disappointment, she couldn't decide. Then he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Abigail in a whirlwind of confused thoughts.

* * *

After being stuck in a bed for two days straight, a person tends to become extremely bored. This was indeed the case with Abigail, who, after being left alone in her room again, resorted to humming off-key game show tunes under her breath while counting cracks in the ceiling. She was just getting to the end of the Jeopardy theme and her 76th crack in the ceiling (one small group of them above the desk looked like Madonna if you squinted hard enough) when the door creaked open. 

Abigail looked up, expecting to see Black, but instead met the eyes of a very short, very ugly House elf, who was looking at her in obvious distaste. Behind him stood another house elf, equally as ugly but female, and without the disgusted expression on her face. The first elf stepped forward and spoke.

"Kreacher has been told by Master to tell filthy half-blood that he has sent letter, though Kreacher does not know why Master would want to help dirty—" He was cut off as the other elf behind him elbowed him and glared.

"Master ordered Kreacher to be polite to Miss, he did, he did. If Kreacher cannot give Miss the message, Skitters will do it," the female elf reprimanded Kreacher, then turned her huge eyes towards Abigail, "Master has sent a letter by owl to Master's friend for help with Miss's leg. Master has requested that we bring Miss whatever food she wishes for."

Kreacher muttered loudly under his breath, but Abigail ignored him and turned her attention to Skitters. "I'll eat whatever food you have. I'm not picky. Do you…happen to know how long it will take for his friend to get here?"

Skitters shook her head, "No, Miss, sorry. Skitters will bring Miss her food shortly," she said, then bowed and disappeared through the door. Kreacher slinked out close behind, still throwing Abigail dirty glances.

A short while later, a plate of food appeared on Abigail's nightstand. After she ate, she drifted off to sleep, more because of lack of anything better to do than actually being tired. She woke up when she heard a doorbell, followed by the horrible screeching that had woken her earlier that morning. The screeching stopped abruptly a minute later, and she heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs. _It must be whoever's going to fix my leg._ _Just who becomes friends with a convicted murderer? _Visions of large, scary men covered in tattoos and piercings popped into her head.

The footsteps grew closer, and she looked up to see the door open, and Black stepped inside. Following him closely was a man with sandy hair streaked with gray. He had brown eyes and was studying her as intently as Black was. The amount of attention she was receiving made her a tad nervous, and she shifted uncomfortably. The newcomer smiled at her warmly. _Come to think of it, so far a murderer and his friend have been nicer to me than most of the people I work with. Apparently I just get along with criminals better. Perhaps I should rob a bank and get myself thrown in jail, then I'd be quite popular. _

"I'm Remus Lupin," The man introduced himself cheerfully, striding towards her and sticking out his hand.

She took it warily. "Abigail."

"Well, Abigail, it's wonderful to meet you."

"It's, er…nice to meet you too," Abigail said, wondering if Lupin was slightly mad. He seemed at tad too cheery, and he was acting as if it were perfectly normal for him to heal wounded girls that his murderer friends had locked up in their houses. _Well, I suppose maybe it is normal for them. _

"A slightly warmer greeting than the one she gave me," she heard Black say from the doorway, and Lupin chuckled before turning his attention back to Abigail.

"Now, Abigail, would you mind if I had a quick look at your leg? I'm afraid that Padfoot here isn't terribly skilled when it comes to healing charms," he said, moving the blanket to the side to expose her leg. He kept talking as he drew out his wand and inspected her leg. "When we were in our 5th year at Hogwarts, he tried to fix a broken arm that he got from a Quidditch accident. Well, not only did his arm not heal, but it turned purple, and everything his arm touched stuck to him. Including people. Dear old Filch was not happy when he grabbed Sirius' arm to drag him off to detention and found that he could not let go."

Abigail smiled at this anecdote, and glanced at Black. He was shaking his head and glaring at Lupin, but there was a smile on his face. Abigail wondered how the man standing before her could be the same boy that Lupin was talking about in his story.

"There you go. All better."

Abigail looked down at her leg in surprise; she had not felt the bone being fixed as she had been listening to the story. She looked up at Lupin and smiled. "Thank you very much, Mr. Lupin."

He smiled warmly. "You can call me Remus. And it was no problem at all."

Abigail sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, thrilled to be able to stand without feeling like she would pass out from pain. Then she turned around to find Black pointing his wand at her chest. _Oh dear._ Her eyes widened as he muttered a spell, and she felt herself go cold, then hot, and finally go back to normal.

"It's a simple spell so that you cannot tell anyone that you saw me, or where Black Manor is. After all, I can't have the Ministry knocking down my door," Black told her, and she nodded silently. The two men led her down the stairs and through a hallway to the front door.

"Since you have no wand, you can side-along Apparate with me," Lupin said, and held out his arm. Abigail took it, and turned to Black.

"Thank you," she told him, the hesitated. _Just go ahead and say it, _she told herself. "As I said before, you're…not what I expected. But expectations can change. And between all that black and white there's sometimes a bit of gray."

Black's eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled wider than she had seen him do so far. "Goodbye, Abigail."

Abigail felt pressure on all sides, and closed her eyes and she and Lupin Apparated. _Now I can go home, and nothing can stop me. I can go back to my house and forget about this. I can be safe and go back to normal. I can sleep in my own bed and not a murderer's, and take a nice long bath. Yes, that sounds like a good plan. _

But things do not always go as planned, as Abigail discovered when she opened her eyes again. She saw 764 Willow Branch Lane, her address, like she knew she would. But instead of seeing her house, as she had expected, Abigail found herself staring instead at a huge mass of flames, and a giant emerald Dark Mark glittering above.

* * *

Rather short, I know. I've been squeezing this in between massive amounts of homework (yes, even over Fall Break! Sheesh). It was actually done a few days ago but my computer wouldn't let me upload it. If you have any suggestions, let me know ) I'm very open to constructive criticism. Thanks to this-love-is-sirius, cylobaby, and Insane and Logical for reviewing. The quintessence of wyrd--reading back, I did go a bit overboard. I tried to tone it down this time, hope you like this chapter a bit better! Thanks for reviewing! I'll try to update soon, please review everyone! 


	4. Tea and Gringotts

Chapter 4: Tea and Gringotts  


Abigail's breath caught in her throat as she stared unbelievingly at her burning home. Her grip on Lupin's arm tightened until her knuckles turned white and Lupin squirmed a little.

"Abigail…Abigail?" Lupin's voice sounded far away and she only heard snatches of what he was saying over the pounding of blood in her ears. "…unsafe…Death Eaters…have to go back…so sorry Abigail…"

Her mouth moved but she found that her throat was too tight to speak. Her house. Her home. _No…_

She distantly felt Lupin's hand brush her arm, and felt the pressure on all sides again before she was whisked away from her home, the place where she had grown up, and back to the Black Manor.

She stumbled slightly as her feet touched the ground again, and Lupin's hand tightened slightly on her arm to help her keep her balance. Tears blurred her vision slightly, and she allowed Lupin to lead her up the lawn and into the Black Manor.

The screeching of the painting in the foyer brought her out of her reverie slightly (Was there no other way to enter the house than by ringing the doorbell?) and she saw a movement in the window to the right of the door, which opened seconds later to reveal the confused face of Sirius Black.

"Moony? Abigail? Why are you…" He trailed off as he noticed Abigail's tear stained face and Lupin's grave expression. "What happened? What's wrong? Remus?"

"I think that perhaps I should explain over a bit of calming tea," Lupin said quietly, and Abigail noticed them both glance at her briefly and then exchange a small look.

"Right. Well, come a long this way, then," Black said, and led them down the dark hall way to the kitchen. He pulled out a worn tea pot and started preparing the tea. "Conjured tea never tastes as good as making it yourself." He winked at her and smiled slightly, which she recognized as an attempt to cheer her up. She managed a weak smile in return, and stared down at her hands folded on the wooden table.

"Why—" Abigail's voice caught in her throat and she worried that she would start crying again. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Why did they…do it? I've don't…I've never—I haven't ever been mixed up with Death Eaters. Even during the first war, my family was never involved."

Lupin sighed deeply and sat down across from her as Black set down three saucers of tea and took a seat himself.

"Actually, Abigail," Lupin began, and she could tell that he was struggling with how to phrase whatever he was about to say. "You may be more connected to them than you would think. If I am correct, you are related to the owner of Gringotts Wizarding Bank?"

Abigail hesitated. "Yes, distantly. I don't know very much about him. His name is Reginald Rockhearst. He was the first wizard to run Gringotts instead of a goblin in about a hundred years. But what does that have to do with any of this?"

"Abigail, I'm very sorry," Lupin paused before continuing, and in that split second of hesitation, Abigail felt a heavy stone of dread drop into her stomach. "Mr. Rockhearst was murdered three days ago—the same day you were brought here. Apparently, he was being pressured by Death Eaters to turn Gringotts and the goblins and dragons in it over to them. He ignored the threats, and refused to comply with their wishes."

Lupin paused again, and he and Black regarded her closely, waiting for a reaction. But as much as Abigail hated to admit it, her sadness over the death of Reginald Rockhearst was not as great as her sadness over losing her home. She knew full well that a human life was worth much more than any material possessions, but she had hardly known Reginald, and she had grown up in that house.

"I…I still don't see how this led them to destroy my house," Abigail spoke in a shaky voice

Lupin spoke again. "Mr. Rockhearst was in very poor health the day that he was killed. He had no children, and he was an only child. As both of your parents have passed on and you are the eldest of the children, you are actually his closest living relative, no matter how distantly related you actually are. By a magically binding legal contract, you are to inherit Gringotts after his death.

"Mr. Rockhearst seemed to sense that his sickness would not allow him to live much longer. He planned to go to your house to tell you about your inheritance, but the Death Eaters caught wind of it. They were there to meet him when he got to your house. They killed him instantly. They destroyed your house as a warning, I suppose, not to follow in his footsteps and go against the Dark Lord."

The image of the emerald Dark Mark hovering ominously over her house flashed into her mind. She knew that the Death Eaters only left their mark where they had killed, but she hadn't made the connection until now. She hadn't thought that somewhere in the pile of rubble that used to be her home, there was a body of someone who had been murdered.

She stared silently at the steaming mug of tea in her hand; she had yet to take even a sip. She looked up and saw that Black and Lupin were still watching her closely. Distantly, she registered that she was indeed sitting around a table having tea with a murderer and his friend. If the situation had not been so serious, she would have laughed.

"The spells and wards on Gringotts have sensed that the ownership has passed on to you, and therefore will not open it's doors to anyone else, until such time comes that you enter and change that. The Death Eaters know this, and are looking for you. There is no way of knowing how many of them are stationed in Diagon Alley waiting for you to turn up on the Gringotts steps. Going to a friend or family member's house may put them at risk, and I'm afraid that it is not safe for you to go back to your house, either." _Not that there's anything to go back to, _Abigail thought bitterly, before the implication of what Lupin had just said sunk in.

"I can't go home," Abigail said slowly, "or to anyone's house…basically I can't go out in public…what am I supposed to do then?"

Lupin and Black exchanged a small glance, before Black turned to her and said with a small sigh, "I think we'll have to sleep on that."

* * *

A short while later, Abigail found herself back in the very bed that she had been so eager to leave just hours earlier. Now, she found that she wanted to go stay in it forever, and just sleep for the rest of her life.

Visions of her home raced through her mind as she tried in vain to fall asleep. The photo albums with pictures of her parents in it, waving at her from carefully pressed photographs. The fireplace where she and her siblings had marked their heights every year as children, eager to be as tall as their parents. The old trunk in the attic, filled with her mother's skirts that Abigail used to hide behind when she was a scared little girl.

The images of her childhood possessions turned into images of Death Eaters turning up at her door, burning down her house again, blowing up her bookstore, threatening to kill her siblings and friends…

_Stop it, _Abigail scolded herself.As she tossed and turned some more, she heard muffled voices downstairs. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she tip toed out of her room and over to the railing of the staircase. Soft voices arguing floated up to her.

"She needs someplace to say, we can't just throw her out to the Death Eaters!" Abigail recognized Black's voice. He was whispering, but he sounded angry.

"Perhaps you are forgetting, Black, that this house is supposed to be for Order members _only_," whispered a silky voice that Abigail didn't recognize, "We're already letting six non-Order members stay here. Now you've brought in some girl off the streets, and want to let her stay here? You have no way of knowing that she isn't on the Dark Lord's side, no way of knowing that she wont turn Gringotts and Grimmauld Place over to them as soon as she gets a chance!"

"This is not a dark witch, Severus," she heard a man's voice interrupt; Lupin's, she thought, "I can tell. She needs a place to stay, and can you imagine what would happen if Voldemort"—Abigail could practically feel whoever was arguing cringe at the name—"got a hold of Gringotts?"

There was a short, tense silence, in which Abigail had a nasty feeling that at least one wand was pointed between a pair of eyes.

"Fine. Let her stay. But it's your neck on the line, Black. Keep an eye on her," she heard the voice she didn't recognize whisper harshly. The front door slammed, then after a small pause, she heard Lupin quietly bid Black goodnight, and he too opened the door and left. A set of footsteps started up the stairs and Abigail hurried back to her room and climbed into her bed. She felt immature, like a small child who was trying to sneak out of her room to watch television after her bedtime, but she didn't want them to know she'd been eavesdropping.

The footsteps paused momentarily outside of her door, and she could sense Black at the doorway, watching her. Then he closed her door gently, and the footsteps retreated.

_So…I'm supposed to stay here. Trapped in this damned house, again. I cannot go out in public or to anyone's house, and I have no home. Basically, I have to live with, and trust, two men I don't know, one of whom is the most infamous serial killer in England. _

And to think that her only worry just days earlier had been whether or not it would snow.

* * *

Yes, it's rather short I know, and verrrrrry verrrrrry late. It also comes off as a bit of a background filler chapter. Ahhh I'm just so sorry. I've been so busy with midterms and the such that I just had absolutely no time to write, or even read, much fanfiction. But I will try to update more often, I promise.

Thanks a ton to elodrie, ravenclawroyalty, XxlilyxX, BlackSnowPetals, Insane and Logical, cylobaby, the quintessence of wyrd, alexekia2222, and this-love-is-sirius for reviewing. Pleeeease continue to do so, I do love feedback. Hope you all liked it, I promise it will pick up soon.


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